


Home

by GoldenDaydreams



Series: Moving Forward [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor Does Home Improvement, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Probably Watched Too Much HGTV While Hank Was Away, Reunion, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 21:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15591597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams
Summary: Nine months after the evacuation of Detroit, Hank is able to return home.





	Home

Hank almost drove by his house. Almost. After nine months away, it looked so different. The driveway was now a meticulous mosaic that Hank felt bad about even parking his car on. The walkway had a brick inlay, and grey stones on the sides. The siding and deck had been pressure washed, chipped brick stone had been replaced. On either side of the deck, against the walls of the house was now massive blooming assortment of flowers. The door was now a bold blue in colour. 

_Connor._

He got out, and opened the back door of the car for Sumo to jump out. He led the way, and the dog followed. 

The house looked so different that he had his hand halfway up to knock before he grabbed the knob instead and let himself in. Knights of the Black Death was playing at low level. The television played the news, but had been muted. The place smelled heavily of paint, with an undertone of lemon cleaners. The colours on the wall were close to the ones he’d already had, but just refreshed with a fresh coat of paint. Some of the furniture was still moved away from walls in areas that Hank presumed were still drying. 

Connor’s shoes were placed neatly next to each other on the left side of the doormat. The android was home. Unless with all these home renovations, he also went shopping. He was about to call out when Connor stepped out from the hall, towel around his waist, gun in his hand. 

The android's eyes widened. “Hank!” he sounded every bit as shocked as Markus had led Hank to believe he would be. His LED momentarily went yellow, like he had to use up extra processing power to understand what was happening. 

People were slowly being let back into Detroit, but given the state of things essential workers, like police officers and medical personnel were the first to gain access. Markus had apparently told Connor it would be a draft, as that was only fair, but played favourites anyway and put Hank’s name at the top of the list. “He misses you terribly, and while we have become friends, not everyone is as kind to the once Deviant Hunter.” He recalled Markus telling him on his way through the re-entry point with his big dog at his side. 

“This is the welcome home I get, a gun to the face. Put that down,” he ordered, unbothered, knowing Connor would never shoot him. 

“Sorry,” Connor lowered the gun at once, and then checked the safety before setting it aside. His LED circled blue, quickly whirling round and round, his lips split into a wide smile. “You’re back! And Sumo is back!” The dog trotted over, sniffed Connor and then leaned heavily against the android who was practically an unmovable object. His eyes shifted from Hank to Sumo to Hank again, as he pet the dog. “Welcome home.” The LED circled yellow, and he frowned as he looked around. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask permission. I got… bored.” 

Hank just grinned. “Put some pants on and we’ll talk.” 

“Oh,” Connor glanced down at himself, and grimaced. “Right. Sorry.” He then about-faced and went into Hank’s room. Hank just chuckled. A small fortune went into the creation of the kid, and surprise him enough and he’ll forget about pants. 

In the kitchen, Hank found Sumo’s bowls were washed and in place. A new bag of dog food waiting to be opened. He checked them, no dust, filled one with water and the other with dog food before Connor came out. His hair was still a little wet. He wore a sweatshirt with Detroit Police emblazoned on the front (the size and age of it said it was Hank’s,) and a pair of track pants that fit him close to the body (certainly not Hank’s.) 

“I thought you didn’t know we were coming back,” Hank accused. 

Connor’s head tilted slightly. “I didn’t.” 

“Sumo has a new bag of food, and his bowls were washed,” Hank said, crossing his arms. 

“I threw out the old bag when I discovered the ant colony,” Connor replied. “Bought a new one when I got rid of the ants. And I clean Sumo’s bowls every morning.” 

Because of course he did, Hank realized, Connor had spent their entire absence waiting for their return. He sighed. “Christ, Kid,” the words muttered under his breath as he crossed the room and hugged Connor tightly. 

Unlike at Chicken Feed where it had taken Connor a moment to understand, process, and react to being hugged for likely the first time, he leaned in and hugged back right away. “I’m happy you’re home, Hank.” 

“Happy to be home,” Hank slapped Connor’s back a couple times before leaning out of the hug. “It’s good to see you. How have you been these past months?” 

For the first four months after the evacuation, there was no communication that wasn’t official government negotiations with the Android Rights Movement (ARM). Afterward, communication in and out was spotty, but Connor had managed to get a few emails out, however firewalls had prevented any of Hank’s responses from getting in. 

“I’ve been testing my hand at a variety of hobbies. Unfortunately, with my skill set, I haven’t been much use-“ 

“No android crime, huh?” Hank asked as he started filling up the bean grinder for some fresh coffee. Before Connor, he’d used instant, but Connor had made him into a coffee snob. It was awful. The android didn’t even have taste-buds. How did this happen? Twenty-eight dollars a bag, practically robbery. 

“There is.” Connor tugged the sweater sleeves over his fingers, and Hank’s heart twisted, the action reminded him of Cole. “But I’m the ‘Deviant Hunter.’” Connor shrugged. “Markus’s respect and trust in me goes a long way, but there are still those who despise me.” 

“You freed an entire warehouse of androids on what was essentially a suicide mission-“ he paused as he activated the grinder which was appalling loud. When it was done he dumped it into a filter. “And they still don’t trust that you’re on their side?” 

Connor shrugged. “I can’t force them to change their mind-“ 

“Wait,” Hank held up a hand. “Was there a problem with them? You answered the door with a gun.” He watched the LED do a circle of yellow, then red, then yellow, then blue. 

“No.” 

Hank scoffed and pressed the button on the coffee maker. “You’re a shit liar, Connor.” 

“Only when I’m trying to lie to you,” Connor muttered. It was strange to hear since Connor always had such clear diction. 

“What happened?” He sat down at the table, and finally, Connor stopped standing in the entrance way of the kitchen and joined him, he even pulled on leg up resting his foot on the chair, and his chinon his knee. 

Connor drummed his fingertips on the table. “They just threw a couple of punches. It’s fine. They did break your front window though,” he said thumbing in that direction. “It took me a while to figure out how to put the new window in, and it was a two person job. Markus helped.” 

Hank crossed his arms across his chest, anger burning in his gut. “Did they hurt you?” 

“I’m an android, Hank,” Connor said with both fondness and mischief. “I don’t feel pain.” 

Hank glared. Avoidance was his game, not Connor’s. “Did they damage you?” 

Connor let out a huff of air he didn’t even need. “Not really. There was some damage to my synthetic skin which caused two panels on the right side of my face to be exposed. Easily repaired.”  

“It worried you enough that you started answering the door with a gun.” 

“You didn’t knock!”

Hank’s jaw dropped for a second. “I live here!” 

“Yes, but I didn’t know you were back in Detroit.” 

The coffee maker chimed and Hank stood to get his cup only to find his mug now hung off a hook under the cabinets, a whole row of his mugs with anti-android slogans, and off the cuff remarks printed on them. He felt a weight on his chest at the sight of the anti-android ones. He’d have to get rid of them. Instead, he grabbed one that said, ‘if this mug is still full, don’t start talking.’ 

“What did you do while you were gone?” Connor asked. 

Hank put a sugar cube in his coffee, and spun the spoon around. “Fuck all. Worked a desk job for some other precinct while I waited to be given the all clear. Thought this shit would get sorted out faster than it did. Fucking bureaucrats.” 

Connor’s LED spun yellow, and his eyes shut. 

“Connor?” 

“Just received a message.” The android opened his eyes. “You’ll be receiving a text shortly-“ And his phone chimed. “It’s Captain Fowler,” he said cheerfully. “We are to be at work promptly at seven.”  

“First day back together as partners.” 

Connor beamed. “You know, I’m still a high ranking member of ARM. With that, I will be in charge of ensuring that androids are being treated fairly at work. We have laws now to protect us.” 

Hank grinned. “Proud of you, kid.” 

“Just imagine the look on Gavin’s face when he realizes he can now be written up if he starts shit with some _‘plastic asshole_.’” He said the last part in a perfect imitation of Gavin. 

“That’s terrifying,” Hank decided. “Never do that again.”  

Connor laughed, and promised nothing. 


End file.
